The coldest winter yet
by CutePoison
Summary: It's Christmas eve and Sara is still alone on the streets


(Christmas Eve)

It was the coldest winter Sara could remember, but then this was the only winter she had spent homeless and living outdoors.

Sara sat huddled over the small fire she had built in a coffee can she had scavenged from a dumpster. It had been quite a find too, she knew. These days more and more companies were switching to plastic containers for their goods, making the tin ones harder to come by.

She held her hands closer to the fire, her fingerless gloves becoming almost singed from the heat.

Sara shivered despite the warmth from the fire as a cough racked her thin frame. She knew the cough had been with her too long and she feared pneumonia had set in. But Sara also knew she couldn't chance someone at the hospital recognizing her.

She pulled her worn coat closer and brought her warmed hands to her chilled face hoping to steal some warmth.

Her rapidly cooling hand went automatically to stifle the cough that brought tears to her eyes. And the pain accompanying that cough seared through her lungs reminding the doctor in her once again the seriousness of her situation.

Pushing her concerns away, she lifted her head and let her watery eyes follow the sparks from her meager fire as they disappeared into the night sky, leaving her with only the stars as company.

She had been on the streets too long, she knew. She also knew it had been too long with no word from Michael or his brother Lincoln.

Sara figured they were long gone to Panama by now, with the sun on their backs and the ocean at their feet.

Ah, what she wouldn't give to feel the hot sun on her skin and the warm ocean lapping at her ankles!

A sigh issued from her, her breath pluming in the cold night air.

Sara knew she should have tried to find a mission to spend this night, but the few times she had slept in such a place she would wake up to find one of her few precious possessions missing, or worse she would wake to find someone trying to force unwanted advances on her.

This had happened the last cold night she had sought refuge indoors. After adjusting her clothing and wiping her tears she had sworn never again to step inside a mission to ask for a bed.

She fed more paper and some of the small wood chips she had stolen from a park that morning into the fire. And placing her hands over the growing flames she rubbed them together for warmth.

She would just sit like this all night feeding it, she told herself.

She would sit like this and keep the fire alive, thus keeping herself alive.

Sara yawned despite her resolution. She pulled her coat closer and slumped forward a little telling herself she would only rest her eyes for a minute.

A few moments later Sara slumped even lower as she drifted to sleep.

The small fire she had built for herself burned well for about 25 minutes before becoming red embers at the bottom of the coffee can. Then her slumped form lowered further to the ground and curled into a ball on the cold hard earth.

Sara would realize later just how close she came to dying that night.

(Christmas day)

at first Sara wasn't aware of the change in her surroundings. She could feel the warmth and smell the sent of a wood fire burning close by.

But then as all of her senses came awake she became aware of the warm softness she was swaddled in.

She could discern another smell her suddenly starving sense of smell recognized as chicken soup.

She could hear voices speaking softly in another room.

Sara opened her eyes to see what should be the comforting glow of a fireplace, while in her mind it was anything but.

She ran her fingers over the soft blankets covering her and looked around the room with the effects of a deer caught in the headlights.

Sara had no clue where she was.

She felt panic grip her as her terrified eyes took in the Christmas tree in the corner of what appeared to be a homey cabin.

The walls were made of logs and the surroundings were rustic, with very little in the way of furniture.

She glanced about furtively looking for an escape route, her eyes landing on the front door.

As her eyes took in the thick pad lock securing it, her heart beat quickened.

She was trapped.

She tried to reassure herself that the presence of a Christmas tree was a good thing.

Surely someone with a Christmas tree couldn't be all that bad?

Her pep talk not working, Sara pushed aside the blankets and gained her feet.

She walked a few steps and froze when the voices began to get louder as if approaching.

She quickly began looking for a weapon, anything to grant her a semblance of safety as the two men walked into the room.

When they stepped into the light the breath she was holding left her.

"Michael", she said, her voice coming out a whisper as her body relaxed.

Sara stood in the middle of the room, the two men staring at her. She knew she must look a sight.

Her hair hacked off with a razor blade, her skin suffering from lack of proper hygiene.

She knew Michael was looking at her and suddenly all of those things mattered again.

She ran a hand self consciously through her tangled hair and looked down before bringing her eyes back up to meet his.

The look in his eyes told her he didn't care about those things.

All she could see was his concern for her and his relief that she was there safe. With them.

"Michael" she said again louder, her voice hoarse from illness and little use.

He spoke not a word, but came to her, his footfalls on the wooden floors sounding loud in the quiet that had claimed the room.

Sara's eyes were glued to Michael, but she could see Lincoln retreat into another room, leaving the two of them alone.

He stopped in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers. And as he reached to touch her, his face became blurry from the tears she knew she could never contain.

"Michael", she said again as the tears left streaks on her cheeks in their wake.

Michael cupped her face in his hand and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Sara", he said softly.

Sara knew they needed to talk. She knew there were so many things he needed to say to her just waiting to be spoken, and he was prepared to say them, she could see it in his face.

But right now there was only one thing she wanted from him.

Tomorrow he could tell her how sorry he was, tomorrow he could explain everything.

Today it was Christmas, and she just wanted him to hold her.

Today she just wanted to be home.

(The End)


End file.
